So long, farewell.

Ashley Thalman Photography

Shall I pour a little of my soul on here? I think I shall.

Three years ago to the day, I realized something profound. Food fascinates me. Ingredients, preparation methods, techniques, cultures, tools, traditions. All of those are something that I can't seem to get my fill of. And the best part is that the information and knowledge are endless.

After realizing this thing about myself, I wanted to write a food blog. I had seen a few and I thought I could take a crack at it. So I did and Rookie Cookie became mine.

I started out small. Posting occasionally and learning more about what my "culinary focus" was. As Jack, who was 2 at the time, grew and developed, I wanted him to try it all. So my food became more diverse. I found so much excitement in bringing home a new ingredient from the store and making something with it. Chinese long beans, orange blossom honey, walnut oil and blessed Nutella. Things found on the grocery top shelf, usually ignored.

As I blogged, our lives carried on. Jack grew, I had a miscarriage, got pregnant again, we went on vacations. And then there was the part where we found out my husband's weird looking feet were going to change our lives. Change them in the way that a failed surgery would move us from California to Utah. We would live at my parent's house for over a year and I would cry about all of this a lot. I would lay in bed on Ethan's shoulder at night and cry. Cry about leaving so many friends, family and our house. Cry about our income dissolving and being unsure about our future.

Oddly enough, these life-altering changes seemed to be cushioned with standing over a pot of simmering soup or rolling out a pie crust. Blogging about food and creating recipes became a welcome diversion. I didn't know it then, but food was healing me. Creating something was comforting. Moving away from my little house in California was painful. Watching my husband endure so many ailments was painful. A realization of an eventual wheelchair was painful. Feeling helpless with our lives being turned upside down was painful. But food was the one constant in my life. I might not be able to control what was going on, but I could control what was for dinner.

So blog I did. Blogged like crazy and used it as a distraction. I gained more readers, I met new friends and I stretched my cooking abilities. And all the while, my mom and dad footed the grocery bill and encouraged me along, knowing full well that cooking and food were my therapy.

Time has moved on. Ethan's foot pains are under control for now. Business is blossoming. Children are growing. There isn't anything in my life that scares me anymore. There are no more crying phone calls to my listening-ear sister Megan. I am happy and satisfied. So happy.

Food blogging has served it's purpose for me. I have gained so much from it and I can truly say it changed my life. It was a welcome focus when my life was hard. But as all things go, there is a time and a season. So it is with a grateful heart that I say goodbye. Thank you for being my friend. Thank you for giving me a place to stretch my abilities. I can truthfully say that I wouldn't be the cook I am without food blogging.

Please know you can always e-mail me if you have any cooking questions or just want to catch up. I would love to hear from you. whitney_leigh_ingram@yahoo.com. And no worries, I won't be taking the blog down. I will keep it up and you are still welcome to the recipes.

Since I really enjoy writing, I might end up doing just that on another blog sometime in the future. So I do have a blog you might want to subscribe to or check in on from time to time. whitneyingram.blogspot.com.

Once again, thank you so much for your friendship. Good luck and God bless.

Betty Crocker

About 3 years ago, my parents sold my childhood home. They lived there for almost 20 years. During that time, they raised six girls. I am sure many of my friends that read this blog have memories of that house from when we were growing up. There were endless toilet-paperings in the front yard, lots of slumber parties, dozens of boys knocking on the door and even a bag of flaming poop on the front steps one time. It was a good old house, the only one I remember.


When my parents moved, I felt it important that I fly out to Utah and help my mom pack. It seemed very ceremonious as I took down the pictures and cleaned out the cupboards. My mom also took this time as a dejunking time. She took truck loads of old things to DI. Luckily, I was there to make sure she didn't get rid of everything.


I snagged lots of things from her grabby getting-rid-of clutches. Like an old soup tureen and the tea pot we used to play tea party with. One thing that I made sure I took home was her first cookbook. She was really going to get rid of it! It was an old Betty Crocker cookbook. The pages are torn and splatter-stained. There are tons of handwritten notes in it from my mom's days as a new bride learning her way around the kitchen. It was so used that the binding is held together with tape. And to think she was trying to get rid of it!


The other day, I found it in my cupboard. And I found all the recipes we used to use. Like the recipe my sisters and I would use to make suckers. Or the frosting recipe for cupcakes. As I have been feeding Violet over the last few days, I have flipped through and found some great recipes. Everything is very 1970's retro.


So Mom, nice try. Like I was going to let you toss that cookbook.

Lack Luster Summer

Summer’s benediction is close. I suppose it’s officially over once my first born crosses the threshold of kindergarten in a few weeks. As much as I thought I was going to be effected by his maiden voyage into scholarhood, I am not. It seems very natural for him to go to school. I am not sad and I am not surprised.

In accordance with my membership in the motherhood club, this was supposed to be our greatest summer, like, ever. We were supposed to shake off responsibility, swim until we were water-logged, eat more popsicles than food and embark on vacations galore.

None of that happened.

Instead, we had a baby. One that is nearly perfect. You don’t hear me talk about her too often because I don’t like to brag. And if I was to talk about her, I would sound like I am bragging, because the girl is nearly perfect. She has been sleeping through the night in her crib for over a month. She eats well, smiles plenty and doesn’t really cry. As I type this, I am trying to think of a time when she wasn’t doing those things. And now I feel bad because it sounds like I am bragging. And I am not one of those bloggers that tries to elude her readers into thinking she lives in some parallel world where all is perfect, well and right. My true reality is a perfect baby. Sorry.

Since this baby came, summer has been a little lack luster. I have only washed the boy’s swim trunks a few times and we haven’t even grilled one single hamburger. I really dropped the beach ball on my son’s last summer before school.

But you know what we did do? We all sat on my king-sized bed and laughed at Violet’s smile. We also took turns holding her and kissing her. And there was plenty of help when it came to feeding, diapering and bathing her. I didn’t have my baby- I had OUR baby. And when I remember that, I don’t really care about what our summer lacked.

4th of July, like you care.

I suppose I should tell you about my 4th of July weekend, right?

It was started with a trip to the army surplus store. If you want Jack's head to sufficiently explode, you take him to the army surplus store. He left the store completely outfitted for whatever battle could take place in our yard. He even got a dog tag with his name on it in case the Nazis kill him and he needs to be identified. While I love my boy dearly, I am pretty much over his current military phase. He shouts out orders, wears the same clothes everyday, salutes and calls me ma'am all day. I am not exaggerating.

On Saturday night, we had my parents over for grilled steak, lemon herb foil potatoes and nectarine and plum salad. The best part of foil potatoes is picking off the stuck potatoes on the foil. They are crisp and have soaked up the leftover butter. I let my dad have them because he was nice enough to hold Vi while I ate my steak, which was a little overcooked, Ethan. Sorry. I thought you knew I liked my steak medium rare.

Sunday was church in the morning. It was Jack getting in trouble in his primary class, me holding more pink dress than baby, Van chewing gum for the entire 3 hours and not swallowing it and Ethan wearing a new light tan suit that he wants to wear all the time. He is calling it his summer suit.

After church, it was naps and then time for my whole family to pile into my house and eat barbecued chicken and corn on the cob. We are traditionalist around here. And then it was time for the fireworks. Oh the fireworks.

Ethan had an unreasonable addiction to fireworks this year. I think it has something to do with fireworks always being illegal in California and him not getting his fill over the years. We had over 100 fireworks. Way too many Piccalo Petes, tanks, helicopters, zipper flowers, smoke bomb, Moonshines and a Bug Zapper for the grand finale. Most of my family left early. Lightweights. My little boys went to bed with dirty feet and smokey hair.

Did I take any pictures all weekend? Nope. My camera and her battery are on their last legs. But I am not too sad. We have been together for over 3 years. Not too bad, considering she is pink and a colored camera shouldn't last that long.

Oh Eeeeeethaaaaaaaan, it's time for ol' Rook Dawg to get a new camera.

When will Whitney get her groove back?

Everyday I wake up to the sound of a pink-clad infant stirring in a blue toile bassinet next to my bed. I slowly rise, rub my eyes that are probably still wearing their contact lenses (bad girl) and look at the infant. She is sort of crying, sort of smiling and is trying her darnedest to wiggle out of her blanket. I pick her up, set her on my bed and unwrap her tight swaddling. She stretches her arms, the arms with balled fists at the end. She turns her head to the side, sticking her chin in the air. And then she's ready to eat.

I make my way down the stairs and into the kitchen, turn the faucet on to get the warm water running. Bottle is filled, formula is measured, cap tightened and I shake it gently as I go into the laundry room to put the laundry in the dryer. Now back up the stairs. By now, Violet has fussed enough to wake up her daddy dearest. He has picked her up, set her on his chest and she has fallen back to sleep. Now would be my chance for a shower. So I quickly get in the shower and by the time I am out, Violet has woken again and is ready to eat.

As I feed her, my mind wanders. I wonder if this will be the day, the day my groove returns. The day I can get it all done the way I want it done. The laundry, the park, breakfast, lunch, dinner, makeup, hair, mop floor, rub husband's tired feet. Will today be the day I have been waiting for?

I should be saying that although the house is littered with toys and pretzels, I am just enjoying my children and we are staying in our jammies and reading books and making cookies. That isn't me. I can't pretend it is. I like order, schedules, clean, organized, wiped, folded, vacuum lines. I am a better mother and wife when I can get things done that way. 7 years of marriage and 3 children have proven that about me.

So everyday, I hope this is the day it all comes back. It is slow going, but it's coming. I can feel it.

Arrived

I had the most appropriate Mother's Day.

Around 10pm on Sunday, I delivered the loveliest baby girl.

Violet Caroline.


She was a nice 7 lbs and 9 oz and has the sweetest baby girl mouth. Delivery was uncomplicated and very agreeable. My doctor proclaimed that I should have three more babies since I am so good at delivering them.

Violet and I got home today, welcomed by two excited brothers. Jack is very helpful and Van is very curious. Wants to poke her eyes out and eat them. But we are careful to not let him do that.

We are enjoying her immensely.

I wish

No, not yet. Baby sister isn't here yet. But the preparations for her arrival are in full swing. Just today, two of my sisters came over to scrub my walls and baseboards. The oven is clean, the onesies are hanging up and the new baby swing arrived the other day. I have plans to get a pedicure in the next few days and I am going to get my car cleaned too. My freezer is full of delicious meals to get us through our inevitable tough days and I have pizza coupons on the fridge. We are ready, or at least we appear to be. I am sure that once we are in the hospital and we are watching the contraction monitor rise and fall, we won't feel ready in the least.


As for these two little gents, they are excited. Jack especially.

As my belly grows

As my belly grows, so do my swollen legs and feet. You should see the tree trunks I am sporting.

As my belly grows, so do my bitch levels. And boy is Ethan taking the brunt of that. Just ask him. Wait, don't.

As my belly grows, my desire to cook and bake doesn't.

My food blogging break begins now. I am sure you understand. I won't be quitting blogging and food writing, but just for now, until my really cute baby checks in, or is it checks out? Due date May 14th, baby.

If you find yourself missing me desperately, visit me over at Formspring.

"This week has taken it's toll on me..."

Come on, sing the title like it was Maroon 5's "This Love". Yes, do it. I want you to.

Well, actually, this week hasn't been all that terrible. I just feel like it has because the uncomfortable meter with this pregnancy is rising, rising, rising. I was exchanging e-mails with Erica about our pregnancies. Due at the same time, both on our 3rd baby and both of our same bodies parts ache. Sleeping has become a chore and stairs have become Everest. This week has taken it's toll on me.

This weekend should provide a nice buffer for the coming week. Jack has started proclaiming Saturdays as Buddy Day for him and Ethan. They get to be buddies and do something fun, like play catch or throw rocks in the pond by our house. What is it with boys throwing rocks into bodies of water? They love it. They could do it over and over again.

This Saturday, the Girl Scouts will be outside my local grocery store. I did my homework and checked online to see where they would be. I am going to take my big bucket of loose change, turn it into bills at the Coinstar in the grocery store and then turn around and blow it all on cookies. All of it.

This Saturday also came with a request from Son One for fish tacos. I think we can oblige him. Whether we make them or buy them, I am game. The child has a penchant for seafood of all sorts. Which I think makes up for his dislike of tomatoes, onions and avocados.

This weekend will also be me, Ethan and the laptop, combing over his menus for work. Revising, improving, perfecting. One thing that is definitely going to be added will be the new roasted red pepper tepenade bruschetta with Camembert he served at a recent food tasting. I don't like cheese, but I think this combo sounds perfect.

Amid the coloring books, board books, Playdough and movies, I think this weekend will also bring some glazed lemon yogurt cupcakes. The recipe for these has been dancing about in the back of my mind for a few days. I am thinking they will be light, tart and delicate. Like something to have with afternoon tea.

I am not going to wish you a happy weekend like so many people do. I am just hoping my weekend is happy. If yours happens to be too, great. If not, hope for a better one next time.

Isn't she lovely? Isn't she wonderful?

It's time that ol' Rook Dawg got a new look.

When Rookie Cookie came to be two and a half years ago, I was a novice in the kitchen. I loved to cook, eat and read about food, but I wasn't confident in the kitchen. This blog became a great avenue to increase my knowledge, stretch my abilities and open me up to a whole new world of food blogs.

Now I feel confident in the kitchen. My knowledge of the properties of ingredients has increased and so has my blog friend base. Since Rookie Cookie has grown up over the last two years, my graphic design slave/sister thought it was time that we went for a more grown up look. After taking a good look at this blog, I agreed.

So here is my new look. I think it is a bit more "grown up". Not so rookie. I hope you enjoy.

On the right side bar are two new buttons, ripe for the picking. If you already have my button, thanks and you are welcome to exchange it for a new one. If you want to keep the old one, be my guest. It will still bring you back to Rookie Cookie.

Megan, you are a master. Thank you for taking the time to spruce up what needed sprucing. I wish I could tell my readers and blog friends that you are taking on new clients right now. You have a true talent for this graphic design stuff.

Infected

It was 7:30pm when we finally were seen by a doctor.

Van was sleeping against my chest and protruding pregnant middle. I had hummed him to sleep by humming Mary Poppins "Stay Awake" about 2o times in a row. Van's left hand was cupping his left ear, his nose was running and wet and he occasionally coughed. I had to selectively and quietly sniff my own sick nose so I wouldn't wake him up. His forehead was dripping fevered sweat and it dripped down my shirt. But I wasn't about to move him. He was finally relaxed. Finally tearless and calm.

Once the doctor came in, an ear infection was quickly identified and miracle medicine was prescribed. I explained to the doctor that my little family were all sick with colds and Ethan with strep throat. And he said, "Well, you haven't been having any fun at all, have you?" "No doctor, not a bit."

But now, we are all well. We have put away the tissues and Van and Ethan are both finishing their antibiotics. And my evening prayers have changed from asking for healing to gratitude for our amazing bodies and their ability to recover. One would think I would make a batch of comforting chicken noodle soup or warm bread to carry is through our turmoil. But no. We all ate nothing but Totino's pizzas and Robin Egg Whoppers for days. So I am especially grateful that we were able to get better whilst fueling our ailing bodies with crappy food.

I am telling you, our bodies are amazing.

So hot

Dear Mom,

When I was at your house last Thursday, my feet were cold. I took some of your socks to wear and then I wore them home because my feet were still cold. And then I picked up Jack from school, went to the gas station and went to the store while wearing them. I looked so hot. I will bring your socks back next time I come over.

Love, Whitney

Kick the can

When I was unpacking boxes in my new house, I ran across two cans without labels. And I wasn't about to open them. Something about a blank can seems so scary and mysterious. It could have anything in it! Refried beans, creamed corn, botulism.

As my family came and went with helping me move and unpack, I had them make their guesses. They shook them and listened to them and then wrote their judgement on the can. There were guesses like tomato juice, butternut squash, chicken stock and oil (Jack). Van's were the best. His guesses were "dunnah" and "huh". Ethan said, "Wouldn't be all be surprised if we opened one of the cans there was some 'huh' in there."

One afternoon, my sister Caitlyn came over after I begged her over text to come play and to bring me a soda. We decided to open the cans. And sure enough, I clamped the can opener on one can and it sprayed all over Caitlyn. That is probably not a good sign.

Turns out one can was pumpkin puree and one can was tomato sauce. And then I threw them away, not willing to risk death upon consumption.

Peaches, Privates and Preschool

I am sitting at my mom's house right now while Jack attends preschool and Van naps. Yes, I will be driving Jack to preschool 35 miles away, twice a week. You would think I was a fool, until you met the peach of a preschool teacher Jack has. Jack knows that I am in love with two people. His daddy and his preschool teacher.

Speaking of peaches, there is a restaurant by our new house that we went to that sells a dessert that I can't seem to stop thinking about. A Peach Bomb. Deep-fried peaches with vanilla ice cream. I know, sounds delicious, right? I need to go back and try it.

Internet access is scant in my new area. Call me bananas, but $59.95 a month for internet is a bit unreasonable. Logically, I do not have the internet at my house yet, so in the meantime, I will be bumming it off of my mom, 35 miles away, twice a week. Hopefully the people at church can clue me in to how they all surf the world wide web.

While I have left your stomachs empty for the last week or so, I haven't left my brain empty. I have grand ideas that will make it to this here blog soon. Ideas like rice and black bean salad with cilantro dressing. And the grocery store has limes on sale 7/$1.00. Me thinks lime cheesecake. Possibly with the addition of raspberries? I am also thinking up a strategy for some barley risotto, without meat. Trying to convince my family that less meat is best. Note to self, Ethan will be a pill about this one.

Speaking of Ethan, did you know he spent the last 3 weeks being sick. 3 damn weeks. His timing is fantastic. Turn out he was sick with a prostate infection. And turns out he is going to be a leetle bit mad at me for blogging about his privates.

Today is my birthday. I had a moment to sit at my computer so I thought I would tell you. Today has proved to be lovely. I just got back from a fish taco lunch with my sisters and mom. I just love fish tacos. With lots of lime. And a diet Coke to wash it down.

My mom writes all of us birthday poems and they are always clever. I thought I would share mine with you. My mother is so whitty.

Whitney! Another birthday!

A year that did not linger

Another year of mothering

And giving trials the finger.

A year of intense learning

And chasing little boys

Trucks, weapons, bottles

Diapers, tractors, noise.

Now baby three is coming

And the gender will be new

Instead of boy – a little girl

Will make her grand debut.

Whitney drives to the doctor

Whitney drives to the store

She’s down the street to preschool

And the library she’ll explore.

Up in the a.m. for breakfast

And not the cereal kind

Pancakes, eggs, bacon

Yogurt or fruit you’ll find.

Willing to spend an evening

Rubbing husband's feet

Or baking an extra buttermilk cake

For his own personal treat.

She’ll always be your friend

And disregard your flaws

But don’t you ever hurt her men

Or you will see her claws.

The kitchen queen she is

And happy she will be

When beating eggs or mixing sauce

And on a cooking spree.

She cares for home and family

Monitors in-law activity

Jumps to help if needs arise-

Timely assistance is her proclivity.

So Whitney it’s your birthday!

And we all shout “Hooray!”

Pack up the kids for Jumping Jack’s

Ethan said he’d take them today.

Christmas and Kleenex

Christmas Day sucked. I was sick and wasn't in my own bed because I was in California. Blah. I spent most of the day sprawled out on Death's door mat clutching my aloe Kleenex box and diet Coke. I didn't take one picture and I won't remember a thing. But I will remember Jack's superb super hero costume that my mother in-law made. And I will remember those handmade tamales from my brother in-law Ricky. I guess it didn't suck that bad. I think I was just disappointed in myself for getting sick at all. I haven't been sick in years and I take great pride in that. Ask Ethan, I brag every time he gets sick. So naturally, he had a small sense of satisfaction seeing me hack and moan.


Christmas Eve was the best. Ethan had to work so I took my boys to Huntington Beach in search of some Christmas contrast. And we definitely found it. It was so very warm and there was the slightest breeze. The sun felt so good on my face. The boys were a dream come true. No crying, fighting or tattling. Just the sound of laughing and the ocean. It was one of those gratitude moments. The type of moment where you feel so happy and so content.

I hope you and yours enjoyed your holidays. I am excited about going into a new year. This last year seemed like a doozy. So I am ready for a new one.

Today Ethan and I were given good tidings of great joy. A girl, we are having a girl.

We went to the doctor in hopes of getting an ultrasound today. Luck was on our side and our wish was granted. We saw her tiny spine and rib bones. We saw her fluttering heart.

We are excited. Such an excellent Christmas present.

Purple Leo

Today I sent my husband and four year old to Southern California. Ethan has catered Thanksgiving dinner for the same family for the past seven years. And this year is no exception. I sent Jack with him so he could log in some quality cousin time.

I just called Ethan to ask where they were on the road. Jack answered and told me about two new tractors Daddy bought him at the store. A steam roller and a back hoe bulldozer combo. As a mother with boys, you learn the exact terminology for each tractor and truck.

After telling me all about his new toys, he asked, "So how is my wife?" Did you know Jack is married? He is, to his imaginary wife Purple Leo.

"So how is my wife?" he asks.

"Oh, she is fine. She has been hanging out with me today. She misses you." I replied.

"At church on Sunday, the baby kept asking her for a bah-bah. It was so funny. Make sure you take good care of my wife and my baby until I get back." he said.

So while Jack is gone, I will be taking good care of Jack's imaginary wife Purple Leo and his imaginary baby. That's what any good mother would do.

Logophilia Weeners

Today was a good day.

I got out all my maternity clothes. Well, Ethan got out all my maternity clothes. It required a ladder and lots of dust. It was like Christmas. I forgot I had such cute maternity stuff. But most importantly, I found my blessed Bella Band. Now my pants will fit. Glory be!

As I have been basking in maternity clothing glow, I have had the appetite of a bear. Turkey, bacon and avocado sandwiches. Banana cream tart. Melon Jell-O with whipped cream. Claussen pickles. Broccoli prosciutto omelet. Nilla wafers. Grape tomatoes. Chips and salsa. Nutty bars. Fanta strawberry soda. And that was just today. See, a bear. A very happy, satisfied bear. Pregnancy number three is tasting delicious so far.

Who are our Logophilia winners?

The first one is Karin with the private profile. Thanks for leaving your e-mail address. An e-mail is on it's way.

The second winner is cjane. And an email is on it's way to you too.

Ladies, thank Ethan. He chose your numbers in between mouthfuls of chips and queso. Wait, is he pregnant too?

How lucky am I?

Hot diggity. Ethan made vanilla bean creme brulee tonight and I just had one of them. And it was one of the best things I have eaten all week. It was smooth and dreamy and crunchy with the caramelized sugar on top. And now I am going to bed with a happy tummy. Ahhhhh.

Bless you Ethan.